Love is blind,ignorance is bliss
by Arda-Xanth
Summary: Draco ends up having a bitter-sweet conversation with his mother. A few secrets are revealed, love is discussed, and Draco's ambition grows. Maybe one-shot.


_**Love is blind; ignorance is bliss.**_

AN: I don't own Harry Potter, though I wouldn't mind owning both Harry _and_ Draco.

* * *

She never heard him walk in. The only noise was the crinkling of the cloth as she moved the gown at different angles to see the silk shining and the tiny crystals scintillating. The plush, ivory carpet in the bedroom at Malfoy Manor silenced his steps. Narcissa didn't notice her son until he coughed nervously.

The door had been open, with her back to the portal. If Draco had known what she was doing, he would have left and returned to the chamber within a few minutes. It was too late now, they both knew. He felt guilty at seeing his own mother with tears in her eyes. It was so rare to witness any real emotion coming from either of his parents, that he didn't know how to respond. Narcissa, slightly embarrassed, gestured to her bed.

Draco sat down as his mother had indicated. His cool grey eyes failed to meet hers, so he ended up picking at the embroidery of the coverlet. He heard the rustling of fabric and before he knew it, Narcissa's delicate hands were holding one of his. Draco's first impulse was to yank away, but his mother clung so tightly that her elegantly manicured fingernails dug into his skin.

"Stay, Draco."

He was bewildered, but obeyed. Anxiously, he asked "Your wedding dress?" Narcissa nodded. Draco had never seen a photograph of his parents' marriage. If it were not for the priceless jewel upon her ring finger and her place at Lucius Malfoy's side at every social gathering, they would not seem to be husband and wife.

"I suppose you'd like to know why I was looking at it?" she inquired softly, an odd expression on her face. The pride was not gone, but it was tempered with a wistful, lachrymose quality.

"Well..." Draco mumbled. He wasn't sure. It'd be a lot easier to walk away and pretend this hadn't happened. There were a lot of situations like that in their home. One of his most vivid memories was that time when Narcissa and his six year old self had met Lucius and some other woman while shopping. Both of them had ignored each other, but Draco had started shouting greetings at his father and threw a tantrum when Lucius would not acknowledge him. For at least two months afterwards, Draco was certain his hair was turning brown, and that was why his sire had not recognized him. His parents tolerated one another long enough to take him out for icecream afte the incident, a simple pleasure neither understood. Draco never forgot though.

"Today is your father's and my anniversary," she explained. Draco hadn't known that; the event had never been celebrated. "Maybe one day your bride will wear this gown?"

"I'd really prefer not-" he began, but Narcissa cut him off with a gesture. Sagely, she said "Draco, marriage is not so bad. I know what you're thinking. Nothing is finalized with Pansy, may I remind you."

"How can you say it's not so bad, even as you sit here crying?" he demanded harshly, in a tone often used, but for the first time against his mother.

"Do you believe in soulmates?"

Draco's brows came together, confusion settling over his noble features. It appeared to be an entirely random inquiry, not the answer to his question. His grey eyes flashed with reflected light as he glanced around the room, musing. Out of habit, he reached up and swiped one hair through his nearly white hair. To his surprise, Narcissa reached over, and smoothed the locks away from his forehead. This time he did withdraw from her touch, staring at her icily.

"Perhaps I would if I believed in souls."

"What do you think happens when we die then?"

He cast a derisive look her way, shrugging. Narcissa pretended not to notice, waiting patiently with her hands now primly folded in her lap. Draco looked at the gown besides her. He yearned to touch the silk panels, feel the coarse lace and cold diamonds inexplicably. At last, he inhaled deeply and replied "We die. That's it. You die, you're gone, the end. I don't think the ghosts are real people either. I don't know exactly, but...Anyway, that soul stuff is a bunch of Muggle bullshit meant to deceive the foolish. There isn't a God, no Jesus...Clapton. Whatever they call him, it, now."

"If you don't believe in soulmates, don't believe in souls, then marriage won't be that bad for you."

"How do you figure?"

"Love means nothing for you, so you aren't missing anything. You have no expectations, so you can't be disappointed."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Draco sneered, giving Narcissa a scornful smirk.

"It's not," she said plainly, coldly. Herazure eyes ran over his countenance, scrutinizing the teenager. Raising her chin, she returned the sentiment expressed, looking upon her child with disdain. After some time, the contest was abandoned, each receiving approval from their counterpart.

Narcissa sighed softly, earnestly telling him "Draco, it's not a bad attribute. That will be your greatest strength, whatever you face, if you find a reason to endure those obstacles. Don't think love is a weakness though." Draco looked dubious, challenging her to convince him.

Frustrated, Narcissa finally snapped "I love your father! I hope one day you understand what that is like, Draco."

"You _what?_"

"You heard me, dear."

"So that's why you're sitting here weeping? And you want me to go through that! How can you love him? I mean-"

"His mistresses? I've had my share," she paused to laugh cynically at Draco's expression, then continued, "the hard words, you mean? The petty fights, the spiteful actions? I still love him in a way."

"_How?_" he demanded, rising to his feet, his fists clenched. His handsome face was contorted with ire, with the undeniable marks of pain. Narcissa was startled, but she grasped his wrist, intending to pull him back onto the bed. Soothing words were on her lips, but they vanished when Draco grabbed her wrist in turn, squeezing hard.

"It doesn't matter how," she said furiously, pulling her arm away with such force that he nearly fell. Their anger was like a tangible thing, filling the room, permeating the walls and floor, vibrating in the empty space. Narcissa affected an air of being gravely insulted, while Draco stared at her in disbelief, taunt with barely restrained wrath.

"It matters! It does matter! Sixteen fucking years you have used me! You didn't need the 'petty fights'! You had me! I was your weapon, yours and Father's! I am nothing! I'm just an object! A _name! _You feel sorry for me, but you should pity yourself! What a wasted life! I will be better than you, all of you!"

Draco stormed out of the room, the thick carpet unable to muffle his passing. The ornately carved door was slammed shut, the sound echoing in the spacious, marble hallway outside his mother's bedroom. An expensive vase crashed to the floor, leaving a bouquet of translucent roses strewn among the porcelain shards. The portraits on the walls chastised the Malfoy heir, but he met their scolding with a slew of hateful, disrespectful remarks. He crept into one of the smaller libraries, and came to stand before one of the wide windows.

* * *

_ He's right,_ Narcissa thought sadly, though the sorrow was of a selfish nature. She sighed, carefully placing her wedding gown in it's box, neatly folding the tissue paper over the fine garment. She replaced the lid, and returned the item to the top self in her enormous closet.

She wandered over to her vanity table, and examined herself. Brushing her hair with a silver comb, she muttered bitterly "He's giving me grey hairs." Narcissa sighed a second time, picking up an old-fashioned perfume bottle. Her gaze went to her right side. Draco, when he was about four, used to sit there on the floor beside her, watching her constantly with adoration. When he was that young, she had shown him her wedding dress, had an identical, but kinder, conversation. Obviously, it hadn't paid much attention; Draco had been too preoccupied with her perfume bottles.

"How strong he has become! I suppose I will never have him back. My son..." For the second time that day, Narcissa found herself crying.

* * *

_ All this...Mine,_ he thought, perusing as much of the Malfoy estate as he could view. Pressing his palm to the cool glass, he whispered "I will never really know how great the cost. I will make use of it, of my influence. I will never serve anyone, either. I am superior to them all, everyone. I owe Mother. She opened my eyes." 


End file.
